Goodbye, Old Friend
by bean21
Summary: "Without a fire, we might just as well say farewell to each other right now."


Goodbye, old friend

"_I fear that Achren will not live out the night." _Taran mumbles to me._ "She was too close to death when we found her. She will not have the strength to stand such cold."_

"_Will any of us?" _I answer Taran softly. _"Without a fire, we might just as well say farewell to each other right now."_

A fire. There's no possible way of building a fire here. We have nothing to burn and I doubt even if we did that we would be able to get one going. Nothing to burn...

"_I don't know what you're complaining about," Eilonwy sighs. "I've never been so comfortable in all my life."_

Oh no, it's worse than I thought. If we don't get a fire going soon I fear Eilonwy won't be with us much longer. And I doubt the rest of us will last very long after her. But, could I, maybe...?

"_Quite warm," she rambles on happily. "What a lovely goose-feather quilt I have. How odd. I dreamed we were all caught in a terrible storm. It wasn't pleasant at all. Or am I still dreaming? No matter. When I wake up, it will all be gone away."_

Eilonwy's fading fast. Taran looks so worried.

"_Don't sleep!" he commands her. _"_If you sleep it will be your death!" _

Eilonwy's not answering, simply turning away. Gurgi is chattering so hard I fear his teeth will fall out, but now he's simply curling up next to Eilonwy. Yes, I have to do it. It will be my friends' deaths if I don't. But, how can I?

"_Fire," _Taran murmurs sleepily. "_We must build a fire."_

"_From what?" Doli brusquely replies. _"_There's not a twig to be found in this wilderness. What will you burn? Our boots? Our cloaks? We'll freeze all the faster."_

He is right, our grumpy dwarf companion. Yet, there is still one thing we can burn. It's doubtful it will give us much warmth, but it is our only hope.

"_And if I'm going to freeze, I won't do it with hornets buzzing in my ears."_

Doli's flicked back in sight now. But he won't freeze. None of us will, if what I can do will help anything. I have to do it. Slowly, carefully, I unstring my harp from behind my back. It's like warmth has gone from me, knowing my beloved harp will never rest against my back again.

_At this, Doli gives a furious shout. _"_Harp music!" he cries. _"_My friend, your wits are frozen solid as ice!"_

Oh, Doli, my friend, I wish you were right, and I could sling my harp behind me again. But my wits are not frozen. I will not lose any of you so easily.

"_It shall give us the tune we need," _I reply softly, painfully.

"_Fflewddur, what do you mean to do?"_

Taran my friend, if I told you what I intend to do you would stop me. I'm afraid I might even let you. You should have stayed by Eilonwy's side instead of dragging yourself over to me. It only makes it harder. But nothing will turn me back now.

And now, I hold my beloved harp here in my hands. My most prized possession, yet not nearly so prized as the people beside me in this cave. I'm not so sure about Achren, of course, but for the others, I will give even my harp. For the last time I gently touch the beautiful strings, knotted and twisted as they are. The beautiful harp shall not play again by my hands.

Quickly I raise the harp above my head and bring it down upon my knee, and it smashes.

_Taran cries out in anguish as the wood shatters into splinters and the harp strings tear loose with a discordant burst of sound._

Slowly the pieces fall from my hands, seeming to take a part of my heart with them.

"_Burn it," _I say, almost surprised to hear my own voice. "_It is wood well-seasoned."_

Taran grabs me by the shoulders, sobbing. Why, Taran, must you make this so much harder?

"_Gallant, foolish Fflam! You have destroyed your harp for the sake of a moment's warmth. We need a greater fire than this wood can ever give us."_

Perhaps, my friend, but I could not just sit there while we all freeze. At least this way we can be together a moment longer.

Doli has pulled out his flint and is striking a spark. The wood of the broken harp catches fire instantly and blazes up in such warmth and brightness I can hardly believe such a fire could come from so little wood. And yet, the wood seems to hardly be burning. What is happening?

_Taran stares amazed at the rising flames. The bits of wood seem hardly to be consumed, yet the fire burns all the more brightly. Gurgi stirs and raises his head. His teeth cease their chattering and color returns to his frost-pinched face. Eilonwy, too, sits up and looks about her as though waking from a dream. At a glance she understands what fuel _I _offered, and tears spring to her eyes._

As hard as it is to see my dear harp burning away, I cannot express my joy over seeing Eilonwy and Gurgi sitting up and looking actually warm. Yet they all seem so distressed. I must somehow show that I care more for all of them than for the harp, yet I do feel as if a part of me is burning in the fire.

"_Don't give it a second thought!" _I cry, trying to reassure them. "_The truth of the matter is that I'm delighted to be rid of it. I could never really play the thing, and it was more a burden than anything else. Great Belin, I feel light as a feather without it. Believe me, I was never meant to be a bard in the first place, so all is for the best."_

_In the depths of the flame several harp strings split in two and a puff of sparks fly into the air._

Well, the real truth of it is I don't know which coloring of the facts those strings broke for, but I'm glad I could hear them snapping at my lies one last time. I don't think I'll ever "color the facts" again without glancing over my shoulder, ready to hear the strings snap. But, as much as I try, I can't help the tears that spring to my eyes.

"_But it gives a foul smoke," _I mutter, trying to make any excuse I can. "_It makes my eyes water horribly."_

To my relief I'm not the only one the "smoke" is affecting, though there is no smoke at all from this fire. I see tears in Eilonwy's eyes, as well as in Taran's and Gurgi's. I daresay there are tears in Doli's eyes as well, though he'll never admit to it later.

_The flames now spread to all the fragments, and as the harp strings blaze a melody springs suddenly from the heart of the fire. Louder and more beautiful it grows, and the strains of the music fill the air, echoing endlessly among the crags. Dying, the harp seems to be pouring forth all the songs ever played upon it, and the sound shimmers like the fire._

Amazing! The harp is playing more beautifully than I've ever played it. And yet, the song bursting from the fire now seems so familiar...yes! it is the first song I ever played on that old pot. Right after Taliesin gave it to me, and I learned to play at all, of course. I doubt this fire will go out anytime soon, and as least I shall be able to hear the wonderful harp play again. I always did say it seemed to play of itself, and great Belin, now it is.

"Oh Fflewddur," Eilonwy says softly, "why did you give up your harp?"

I look down into the flames and smile. "So I wouldn't have to give up any of you," I answer just as softly, smiling at my companions.

"Well, old friend, you've saved all our lives by giving the greatest sacrifice you could," Taran says.

"Oh, I shouldn't say it like that," I answer. "It was, after all, just a harp. My, it is burning hot, isn't it?"

"It is, and the wood hardly seems to diminish!" Eilonwy answers. "Which is quite odd. It's like, well, it's sort of like Gurgi's wallet of food that never is empty. Fflewddur, I think your harp is more enchanted than we thought!"

"Enchantments have nothing to do with it, I'm sure," I answer. Even as I say it a harp string breaks in the fire again, yet the harp itself continues to play, the songs constantly changing. "Well, that is, I'm sure it's because Doli lit the fire. He's told us Fair Folk fire burns hotter than fire humans can make, didn't you, old boy?"

"That's true," Doli answers, "but I doubt that has much to do with it! Humph! You walking bean poles don't know much about enchantments, do you?"

"I do!" Eilonwy retorts, drawing a little closer. "And I'm sure this harp is quite enchanted."

"Yes, yes!" Gurgi pipes up. "Enchanted harp plays with stringings and singings, even in flaming fires!"

I smile at Guri. Perhaps he's right. I'm not overly fond of meddling, especially when it comes to enchantments, but perhaps not all enchanted things are so bad.

"Thank you, Fflewddur, for our lives," Taran says softly, after a time. The others all nod their heads and offer their thanks.

"For you all, I would do it over and over again if I had to," I reply. Taran stands up and carries the unconscious Achren closer to the fire, then takes his place next to Eilonwy and we all fall silent, listening as the harp sings its last songs.

"Thank you. Goodbye, old friend," I softly whisper into the flames.


End file.
